


Vacation

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:07:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This should be their fifth vacation this year—it’s the fifth they’ve planned; it’s the fifth they’ve made reservations for and cleared their schedules well in advance for; it’s the first that’s actually ended up happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vacation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeautifulThief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulThief/gifts).



> happy birthday cassie!!! i hope your day is/has been filled with wonderful things like aokisehimu!! i hope you don't mind me playing with/adopting some of your headcanons for these 3; i've been thinking about them a lot lately haha. anywayyy hope you enjoy! <3

This should be their fifth vacation this year—it’s the fifth they’ve planned; it’s the fifth they’ve made reservations for and cleared their schedules well in advance for; it’s the first that’s actually ended up happening. Something always comes up (and “something” is usually related to Ryouta’s crazy work schedule) and they have to postpone it yet again, and Daiki can’t help almost growling on the phone as he cancels the reservations until Tatsuya grabs the receiver from him and smoothes it out and gets them the refund they aren’t actually entitled to.

But it’s August and they’re here, finally; they’re at the beach and it’s humid and it feels like they’re filthy with sweat already and the sun isn’t even at a proper point in the sky. Daiki sighs, rubbing his eyes; they’re just going to sleep on the beach all day (not that they don’t all need and deserve it) but Ryouta’s taking a selfie anyway, and Tatsuya’s gamely smiling in his arms and he’s trying to pull Daiki in, too.

“Daicchi’s pouting; he’ll ruin the picture,” says Ryouta.

“We should have him in here, anyway,” says Tatsuya, fingers curling around Daiki’s shirt.

So he ducks in frame as Ryouta’s about to click the shutter, smiling a cheesy grin, and in the resulting picture Tatsuya’s laughing and Ryouta has a halfway-to-shocked look on his face and it’s hilarious and Ryouta makes them do it over but he doesn’t delete the first picture despite how awful he looks.

Ryouta falls asleep first, head against Daiki’s shoulder and fingers laced through Tatsuya’s, contented smile on his face like a domestic dog dreaming of the hunt. Tatsuya’s still shifting back and forth on the towel, thinking about something—about what, it’s impossible to tell with his face turned the other way and no obvious cause.

Daiki looks up; he’s glad he brought the sunglasses even if the sun’s not quite in his eyes just yet; it’s going to be and he wants to have the option of keeping htem open, even if he might not use it right away. The sound of the ocean is steady, water scraping the sand in a static fuzz that provides a pleasant rhythm but doesn’t become overbearing and gives him free rein within his thoughts.

It’s such a relief to finally be here; the plane ride yesterday was shitty and Ryouta was still getting over a cold but that they’re able to do this at all seems like a hard-fought victory. Daiki’s never cared much for hotel rooms (the beds are never big enough), but he’d fallen asleep happy, arms full and too exhausted to really think about it. It’s never going to be enough time; already it seems as if they have next to no more left—it’s strange; he’s never been much of a worrier or a scheduler (Tatsuya and Ryouta must be rubbing off on him and he can’t decide if it’s a good or a bad thing). He turns his head; Tatsuya’s asleep now, turned in toward Ryouta but still not all that close to him. Their joined hands have plenty of space on the towel to move before they hit a torso, but the odds that Ryouta will at some point end up on top of Tatsuya anyway are pretty good.

Watching them brings his fatigue to the front of Daiki’s mind, and he yawns. He looks back up at the sun and then closes his eyes; sleep comes soon.

* * *

He lets Ryouta fall asleep in his lap after dinner even though he’s really too heavy but it’s vacation and Daiki enjoys spoiling Ryouta every once in a while even if it’s bad for them both. He’s still got dark circles under his eyes where the makeup is peeling away, and they should have taken those earlier vacations, all four of them, and maybe extended them a little beyond however long they were supposed to go. Tatsuya’s fingers work their way into his hair, massaging his scalp—there’s still sand in it from earlier; there’s always sand everywhere at the beach and this is only the beginning but it doesn’t feel that bad against his scalp, not under Tatsuya’s impossibly-soft fingertips. Daiki groans, shifting Ryouta on his lap. He could get used to this really quickly, being all but covered by the two most important people in his life and a cold beer in his hand and the feeling of warm satisfaction.

“I can do your shoulders, too,” says Tatsuya.

Daiki shakes his head. “This is more than enough.”

He waits for Tatsuya’s hands to slow and then turns and kisses him; he shifts Ryouta’s weight around again so one hand’s free to cup Tatsuya’s cheek and he can spill his fingers down Tatsuya’s neck and to his collarbone, tantalizingly sharp through his half-unbuttoned shirt. All the movement is enough to wake Ryouta; he slides off Daiki’s lap and onto his other side (bless this house for having benches to sit on).

“You’re a lousy chair, Daicchi,” he says through a yawn.

“It’s my fault; I’m sorry,” says Tatsuya.  
“Don’t pick up after his mistakes,” says Ryouta. “Come here. Let’s show him how you actually do this.”

Tatsuya obligingly climbs over Daiki (Daiki doesn’t miss the opportunity to grab his ass, and in return Tatsuya kicks him lightly in the shin) and falls into Ryotua’s lap; Ryouta kisses him on the neck and pulls him in closer.

“That looks uncomfortable,” says Daiki.

Ryouta sticks his tongue out, and Tatsuya snuggles against him. It really looks like an awkward position, but as long as they’re both okay with it (or pretending to be, which knowing them they sure as hell might be and this might just be one of those things where they spin everything back around on Daiki and get the better of him).

The next time Daiki looks over, Ryouta’s eyes are closed and his head is bent over Tatsuya’s shoulder; Tatsuya looks somewhat amused, like someone who brought his friend to the party just to watch him get drunk and make a fool out of himself. His thumb is absently stroking the back of Ryouta’s hand on the table and he looks awfully tired himself.

“I don’t think you’re the one who’s supposed to fall asleep, Ryouta.”

“I’m not asleep,” says Ryouta.

Tatsuya’s mouth twitches. “We can go to bed if you want.”

Ryouta shakes his head, nuzzling Tatsuya’s shoulder in the process. Tatsuya can’t hold back his smile at all at this point; even in the harsh artificial lighting of the rental place it’s gorgeous. Daiki places his hand on top of both of theirs on the table, linking his fingers in between the gaps in theirs.


End file.
